


It's winter in June being without you

by Nakimochiku



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: If Ryo is a prince in a fairy tale, Akira has yet to decide if he is the princess or the monster.





	It's winter in June being without you

Akira and Taro are playing video games in his room when the evening calm of their quiet neighbourhood is broken by a loud revving engine. 

“Akira!” A pause and then, “Akira, I need you!”

He goes to the window, simultaneously elated and embarrassed as Ryo shamelessly shouts his name, shamelessly tells the whole universe he needs him. He wants to grin and he wants to blush. Ryo stands next to his white car in his white fur coat, pure as sunlight. Beautiful. He opens the window and yells back “I’m coming down, Ryo!” Ryo smiles up at him sweetly and holds out his hand, telling him he's waiting.  Akira's heart seems to buzz.

He turns back towards the room, and heats under Taro’s smug little grin. “When he calls up to you like that, he seems like he's gonna sweep you away, like a princess.”

“Shut up.” Akira grunts, grabbing a jacket and heading out. Taro keeps making kissy noise and mocks “Akira, oh Akira let down your hair!”

But Ryo  _ does  _ look just like a knight on a steed, ready to pull him away from everything he knows and Akira can’t say no. So he takes the hand Ryo still holds out stretched and flies into his arms, swept away.

*

“Become a demon, Akira, and fight” Ryo says, reasonable and sure.

“Trust only me, because I trust only you.” Ryo swears, heated and honourable.

“Kiss me.” Ryo whispers, sweet and coaxing.

“Yes.” Akira answers. And “yes” and “yes.”

It's been so long now Akira doesn't know how to stop wanting what Ryo wants. He doesn't need to know. He’ll be what Ryo asks, so long as Ryo holds out his hand and says “I need you.”

*

Ryo’s mouth tastes like passionfruit bubble tea and the remains of a kitkat; Fruity and creamy smooth. Akira chases the flavour over Ryo’s perfect teeth, sucks it like ambrosia from Ryo’s perfect tongue and moans. Ryo laughs at him, hands sliding liberally over Akira’s taut skin, trembling muscles, like he's shaping Akira into something else.

Akira doesn't mind being anything at all, anything Ryo makes him, so long as he is still Ryo’s.

Ryo’s pale white skin tastes like expensive shower gel, expensive cream, expensive cologne. Akira kisses his throat, his sharp clavicle, his sternum and navel and pelvic bone, bones as delicate as a bird’s beneath equally delicate skin. He imagines Ryo tastes like passionfruit and chocolate all over, seductive and exotic. Ryo’s fingers tangle in his hair and push him just where he wants him to go.

His cock is long, pink, damp at the tip, brushing against Akira’s cheek. With ease, Akira opens his mouth and swallows him whole, takes him all the way in, hollows his cheeks, sucks. Taking him right to his throat and holding him there, letting his mouth be used, gagging and whining so Ryo knows how hot this makes him; Akira was made for this. Ryo made Akira for this. Ryo arches, moans sweetly, whispers, “Good Akira, just like that, good boy--” his breath hitches and his words stutter but Akira hears what he really means.

_ I need you. I need you. _

*

“I'll always take care of you Akira. Just do as I say.”

*

Worshipping Ryo feels natural. Like breathing, like growing wings. It makes sense, like the gentle cadence of Ryo’s voice explaining scientific phenomenon patiently, sweetly.

Believing Ryo feels the same. Ryo could say the sky is red and grass is blue and the earth is flat and all the stars spin around himself alone like he is the sun, and Akira would believe him.

“Okay, Ryo, I trust you.”

That's all the prayer Ryo needs. He kisses Akira’s forehead like a blessing. Akira doesn’t think he is the princess, when Ryo is blonde and pretty and perfect, like royalty, like story books. Akira is only his guard dog, snarling and vicious and ultimately disposable.

*

When he was human, he dreamed of dark forests, endless bent shadows encroaching and grasping with bent fingers. He had the sense that his parents just left him in the deepest darkest corner they could find without a backward glance. No matter where he turned, gnarled trees loomed over him, so thick there was no path way out. He cried for his father, then his mother, and then for anyone at all.

Only Ryo answered, white and bright in the endless shadows, a beacon. A prince.

Now that he is a demon, Akira wonders if he is not the big bad wolf, the dragon, the troll.

If he is, then Ryo holds his leash. If he is then it’s Ryo’s duty to slay him.

*

Akira has demolished three two litre bottles of pop and a lifetime supply of potato chips. He's still hungry. He should eat real food, Ryo wouldn't hesitate to get him some, but the Makimuras are strict about junk food, so he only gets to eat it here. He wants to indulge his whims, at Ryo’s insistence.

Ryo’s house is like some strange albino candyland paradise.

Ryo himself nibbles delicately on a cookie and types obscenely fast on his laptop. Akira studies the curl of his blonde hair around his little ears, the crumbs gathered at the corner of his mouth, the way his tongue flicks out over his lips and his eyes seem to move like lightning. He glances up, frowns, finishes his cookie in one chomp and waves towards his unnecessarily large screen TV. “You can put on a movie or something. Keep yourself entertained.”

“I’m entertained.” Akira smirks, eyes hot and fixed, and chugs his coca cola. Ryo makes him feel as bubbly as carbonation, light and sweet and dissipating into the air.

“Suit yourself.” Ryo rolls his eyes and goes back to typing.

Later, when Ryo looks amenable to distraction and Akira has eaten his weight in gummy worms, Akira crawls on his hands and knees to Ryo’s sofa, nuzzles at his knee and into his lap until he sets aside his computer. “Insatiable devil,” Ryo smirks, and leans back to let Akira do what he likes.

He starts slow, mouthing at Ryo’s inner thighs over his pure white designer pants. Ryo hums appreciatively, settles a hand in Akira’s hair, watching him with eyes like ice and glass. He feels too hot, being watched like that, itching beneath his skin. He wants Ryo to watch him like this forever. He distracts himself by getting Ryo in his mouth, too much spit, too much tongue, taking him to his throat and swallowing with a low hum of pleasure while Ryo hisses and thrusts up into his mouth. He sucks slowly, lets his tongue trail the thick pulsing vein as he draws up, wants to make this last and make it so good. He sucks his cock until Ryo is gasping his name, and Akira is humping languidly against the floor to relieve the ache of his own arousal.

He likes the taste of Ryo and candy mingling on his tongue. That Ryo thinks Akira can ever have enough of him is laughable.

*

They lean against Akira's new bike on the seashore, watching the crash of the waves on the concrete pier and the velvet roll of sky melding into ocean. Down here, there are no lights from the boardwalk, just the tiny pinpricks of muted stars.

A demon corpse rots in the water by one cheerfully blinking buoy. It is the only aberration to the peaceful scene.

“Do you regret following me on this path to hell?” Ryo doesn't take his eyes from the black ocean, like a paper cut out in white pasted onto a night time scene.

“I don't regret it.” Akira answers immediately. “I did it because you asked.”

Ryo glances sideway and smiles. He seems to be made of starlight. “Oh Akira.” He reaches up to pet his cheek, fingers cool. “You're so human.” Normally when Ryo says human, he sounds derisive, spitting the word like its foul on his tongue. But when he looks with Akira with eyes gone soft and sparkly with leftover starlight, Akira forgets Ryo has ever spoken in anything but that delighted, awe filled tone. “So pure.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

He stares at Akira for a long time before tipping his head up for  a kiss. Akira takes the invitation, caging Ryo against the motorcycle. He feels like he can finally breathe again after a long time underwater.

*

“What would you do if I told you God doesn't care?”

_ I don’t care. _

“God takes and destroys as arbitrarily as nature and no amount of praying will ever sway his whims.”

_ I've never needed a god, I've only needed you. _

“God is real and watching and, when we bore him, he’ll hit a reset button, and toss us all away.”

_ Please don't throw me away. Please. _

“You don't need God.”

_ I don't need him. _

“You only need me.”

_ Only you. _

_ * _

Some days he thinks he’s unspooling like a ball of yarn, fraying apart and lost and useless. His body is too big and unfamiliar, he's too hungry, he wants, endlessly, and nothing he does can fill up the void.

When he reaches out a hand with a sob like a scream building in his throat, Ryo is there to smile and take it, to pull him up and say, “I'm here, Akira, I’m here. Everything's going to be okay.” Like a prince in a fairy tale, rescuing a princess.

“This movie is stupid.” Ryo grumbles, trying to reach over Akira’s chest to get as his confiscated laptop. Akira laughs and keeps him pinned to his side, snuggled close, until Ryo gives up and pillows his head on Akira’s shoulder, fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. “Can't we watch something else, at least?”

“Why?” Akira jerks his chin at the oversized screen, then grins at Ryo. “The prince looks just like you.” Ryo pouts petulantly at him until Akira kisses his nose.

Even if Ryo is a prince, reaching out to him, Akira is not yet sure what that makes him: the princess or the monster.


End file.
